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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148300">pink in the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerousaudino/pseuds/dangerousaudino'>dangerousaudino</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sweet surrender [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Constipation, F/F, Mutual Pining, Open Relationships, POV Second Person, Romance, Self-Hatred, Some angst, Some smut but also a lot of fade-to-black, Takes place long before the game begins, Title from a Mitski Song, a dash of fluff, brief flash of Charon/Hermes in the background, im gonna deadlift the meg/aphro pairing on ao3 if its the last thing i do, is this slow burn? I suppose, the perfect recipe for an f/f rarepair, will likely update the tags as i go along</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:17:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerousaudino/pseuds/dangerousaudino</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Aphrodite find each other -- again, and again, and again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aphrodite/Megaera</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sweet surrender [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ludus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[takes place long, long before the game begins]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You find her again in the forest. </p><p>It’s nighttime on the surface, but your eyes are already accustomed to the dark from the Underworld — and Lord Hades would be none the wiser if you took your time to stroll through the quiet forest where you had emerged, alone with your own thoughts. He hadn’t even questioned you when you returned extremely late last time, just huffed and muttered something about Zeus taking his sweet time, and then went back to the mountain of paperwork that had somehow quadrupled in size since you’d left. </p><p>Yet here you are again, this time with an entire sack of parchmentwork thrown over your shoulder for Zeus’ perusal or fireplace kindling. You sorely wish Lord Hades could have gotten someone else to deliver it, but nobody competent enough was available. (Thanatos? No, too busy. Your sisters? No, too murderous. Hypnos? No, nobody could find him despite his snoring echoing through the House’s halls. You’re going to kill him someday, you swear.)</p><p>You could strangle Hermes, or you could get Charon to do it. Either way, he’ll be the first god to ever die.</p><p>The forest is quiet except for the occasional rustle of the leaves in the wind, so unlike the bustling House and the cries of tortured souls throughout Tartarus and Asphodel. The breeze is cool on your exposed skin, making you shiver as you walk. It would take no time at all for you to unfurl your wing and fly up to Olympus, but why would you rush it? Anything to avoid dealing with the Olympians and all their little games. </p><p>Especially one goddess of love, who had apparently decided to send you a letter only a few days after your descent back into the Underworld. Charon had looked at you quizzically as he handed it over, like you had grown three Cerberus-sized heads, and you felt your heart dropping down into Erebus at the sight of the heart-shaped seal.</p><p>You had tossed it into the fireplace when nobody was looking, where it half-exploded in a burst of pink light.  </p><p>Aphrodite was probably mocking you. And she would have been right to, having somehow wrapped you around her finger with the barest amount of effort. </p><p>You feel your stomach twist at the memory, but -- you <em> had </em> been the one to ask, for her to strip you down to your most vulnerable self and make you beg. But that’s something that would come easily to her, isn’t it? She rules over love and all its aspects. You just preside over and torture angry idiots, which apparently now reflects on who you truly are.</p><p>But there was something else about it, in the delicate touches and her eyes burning into you like the fiery Phlegethon’s waves lapping at your body. In the way you had wanted her, to see her trembling and needy beneath you, for her to tell you what she wanted and for you to give that to her. Someone had <em> wanted </em> you and you still aren’t sure why, and you especially aren’t sure how she had managed to make you want her back.</p><p>You don’t want to think about it anymore, same as you’ve tried over the past few months, but --</p><p>She’s there in front of you, as if summoned by the force of your thoughts, alone in a forest clearing with her back to you. You can see her pink hair, spilling free and bright down her back and across the dark ground like glowing nectar against the gray tile floors of the House. You remember, vaguely, her gentle touch against your face the last time you had met, on your knees and pathetically trembling like a feverish little lamb — and you shiver when a light breeze strikes your face, light and airy and so familiar that your chest tightens to the point of suffocation. You don’t know why. </p><p>Aphrodite senses you before you have the chance to say a thing, turning her head to flash a brilliant smile. Her eyes glow pink in the dark, eerie spots of light that cut at you like daggers. </p><p>“Little Fury,” she calls to you teasingly, “are you here to spy on me again?”</p><p>You freeze, just like you did last time, but the smug look on her face cuts through the fugue and you end up scowling at her. You drop the sack to the ground with a mighty thud and roll your exhausted shoulder, trying to feign casual annoyance. “No. This is the second time I’ve conveniently found you around here. Are <em> you </em>stalking me?”</p><p>She smiles brightly and fully turns to you. You notice immediately the ornate jewelry on her arms and fingers and around her neck, unlike the ones she had worn when first you met. “Oh dear, such accusations! I already tried to seek you out once. And no reply! I’ve been absolutely inconsolable these past few months, though you clearly desired your space.”</p><p>Inconsolable? You know she’s mocking you now. </p><p>“What do you want from me?” you snap angrily. “You sent me a <em> letter </em>. You could choose to bother anyone else in the world — “</p><p>Aphrodite raises an eyebrow, playing with a diamond ring on her finger. “I thought we mutually enjoyed our time together. You didn’t even bother to read it — burnt it instead, as far as I could feel. Truly, you wound me.”</p><p>“What could you have even said that was so important?”</p><p>You don’t know what to think of the expression she gives you — pity perhaps. If you were in her position you’d feel the same. Her voice is all crooning innocence, as if she’s speaking to a child. “I wanted to check on you. After all, your whip is… quite the force. Have your scars healed properly?”</p><p>You stiffen immediately. You know she’d seen them healed, the faintest of scars by the time you both had woken up. If she wants to gloat, you would make her go to war for it. “Why would you care at all?”</p><p>“I care about all of my lovers, believe it or not. ‘Tis my curse.” </p><p>“Even Hephaestus?”</p><p>Aphrodite tilts her head and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You know you’ve hit a nerve, but there’s no satisfaction in it — just another shield for you to throw up, if only to distract her -- and you -- from the lingering questions and insecurities that cling to you like the sentient waters of the Styx, clawing at Charon’s boat to drag careless souls down into its depths. “If the great punisher of infidelity would like an opinion on my sham of a marriage, she should have stated so before dropping to her knees for me.”</p><p>Before you can open your mouth and spit venom at her, she’s appeared right in front of you, so close you can feel her breathing on your face. She’s floating several inches above the ground to meet your eyelevel, boring holes into your very soul as you stay rooted in place, transfixed. </p><p>“Something tells me, however,” Aphrodite croons, as she reaches up to gently trace your jaw, “that my marriage isn’t truly the thing that bothers you.”</p><p>What doesn’t bother you? She’s here, so close you’re sure that she can feel your heart pounding in your chest. You want to lean in to her, the way you had done so desperately when last you met, but you know that would be another mistake on the eons-long list of ones you’ve made. But Aphrodite’s touch is feather-light and so, so comforting in a way you don’t remember ever feeling, and you suddenly can’t — or won’t — remember if anyone else has been so gentle with you before. </p><p>You hate this. You hate feeling exposed, like someone could thrust a spear in your back at any moment. The Erinyes are not weak. The House does not accept lapses of judgment and willpower. <em> You </em> should not be feeling this way.</p><p>She stops suddenly and draws back, her brow furrowed as she stares back at you. You feel like she’s searching you for something, anything, a vulnerable spot to sink her claws into and never let go of. </p><p>Your mouth feels dry, but you still manage to muster the words: “Why are you doing this?”</p><p>“Why indeed?” Aphrodite muses, tapping her chin. “You’re so tense, like a little clam.”</p><p>“... what the fuck are you talking about?”</p><p>“You need to learn to relax,” she says, readjusting one of her arm bands. You notice the indentation it’s left on her skin, like she’d been wearing it for a long time. “Just like the rest of the chthonic gods. I’d tried making conversation with Thanatos once, did you know? It was like pulling teeth from a stone sculpture. I thought, perhaps, you’d be a bit less stoic since you were so <em> kind </em>to me before.”</p><p>“Kind” is putting it lightly. </p><p>“I’m in quite a good mood right now, however,” Aphrodite continues, and turns her head to stare off into the distance. When you look too, there’s nothing there but darkness and trees rustling in the wind. “After all, I’ve just returned from a festival in my honor. Would you like to join me for a bit of an afterparty on Olympus, little Fury? Just us two and a few nice bottles of ambrosia.”</p><p>You scowl and point at the sack of parchmentwork at your feet. “Unlike you, I have an actual job to do. I need to deliver that to Lord Zeus.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes, theatrical in the way only an Olympian could be. “Oh please, Megaera, you could just leave it on Zeus’ desk and he’ll get to it sometime in the next thousand years. You didn’t need to wait around like a lost puppy when you could have spent that time with <em> me. </em>”</p><p>You’d only waited two hours to personally hand everything to him during your last surface trip, since Lord Hades had instructed you to wait for him. One of Zeus’ servants, Ganymede you think, had even mentioned Zeus hadn’t been present in over a day, so waiting only two seemed like a win at the time. Somehow, you feel a bit bad about it.</p><p>When you hesitate to answer, Aphrodite sighs deeply and reaches out to stroke the stray lock of hair hanging loose over your golden circlet. Your heart stops. “If you don’t want to, then I’ll leave you be for as long as you’d like. Forever, even. But for now I’d just like a bit of company on this cold, drab night -- “</p><p>You want to hesitate, to make her wait for it, but the answer comes tumbling out anyway, impulsively fast and loose on your tongue and much too eager for your liking: “Maybe until morning, then.”</p><p>She beams at you.</p><p>------------</p><p>The ambrosia is cold and crisp, sweet without being sickening, unlike anything you’ve ever drunk before. Nectar probably comes close, though Lord Hades is fairly adamant about not having it in the Underworld often, if at all. </p><p>Aphrodite is leaning against you as you sit together on her couch, tracing shapes with her finger into your forearm as she recounts, soft and giggly, the festival she had returned from.</p><p>“ -- and then the priestess fell into the spring, and three men and a dog fell in trying to valiantly save her.” You feel her smile into your shoulder. Somehow, she had convinced you to take off your spiked pauldrons, if only because she didn’t want you to gouge holes into her curtains and sheets. You suspect there’s an ulterior motive, but the ambrosia has relaxed you into abnormal pliability. “What fools. Drunk mortals are always so entertaining to watch.”</p><p>You swish the ambrosia around in the bottle, already halfway empty through mainly Aphrodite’s efforts. She isn’t drunk as far as you can tell, but she also hasn’t made any snarky comments to raise your hackles in quite some time. How suspicious.</p><p>It was so easy to let her cling to you, much easier than trying to sass your way out of her clutches the way you’d been trying to do the entire time. But it’s how you’ve survived eons working in the House under Lord Hades’ stern, humorless gaze, being especially cruel to those you’ve been assigned to punish and doing it well enough that he trusts you with the most important tasks. <em> Affection </em>has never been in your repertoire, never something you’ve regularly experienced, though the mutual respect with which you and Nyx treat each other is close enough. You don’t think you’ve even been on good terms with your own sisters at any point in your lives, though most people would not be inclined to, knowing how they are.</p><p>But somehow Aphrodite knows how to break you down in a way that still makes you squirm in discomfort, so easy and practiced that you know she’s done it before -- with Ares for instance, as most of the godly world well realizes. Soft touches and hopefully gentle intent, the way she had seduced you before and will likely use again and again and again to make you lower your defenses and let her glide in like a sudden storm on a clear day. The ambrosia has probably helped you relax a bit, but you still hesitate at the feeling of closeness, the casual way she’s talking to you like you’ve always known each other, how she sidles up against you like a cuddly cat. She’s just a second away from actually purring, you think, as she continues to babble on and you only half-listen to the cadence of her voice, soft and lilting almost like a lullaby and just as comforting.</p><p>Yet despite how casual this feels, how almost normal , you can’t help but think about what a hypocrite you are, bedding a married goddess. Yet you’ve only ever punished mortals for such sins, because doling out judgments to fellow gods would mean you’d also have to single-handedly topple Zeus, the worst offender, from his throne. Hera, the goddess of marriage herself, is truly slacking on enforcing those rules, but perhaps her mistake was thinking the gods are capable of controlling themselves when nobody could actually reign them in. You aren’t even sure what Aphrodite and Hephaestus are like together, though the careless way she’d tossed a hammer into the chest at the foot of her bed indicates that, yes, they probably aren’t on the best of terms right now. (But were they ever?)</p><p>You feel her shift against you, wrapping her arm around yours. Her hair, soft and fragrant like flowers in full bloom, brushes against your skin like the sheerest of clothing. </p><p>“Megaera?” When Aphrodite reaches for the bottle again you let her take it. Her fingers just barely brush against yours, but you notice they linger for a moment too long before she pulls away to uncap the bottle.</p><p>“What?” You haven’t given her more than a one-worded answer since you two settled in, but she’s prodding you again for something -- to get a read on you, how you feel about this, about her. She had complained twice, already, that leaning against you is like leaning against a rock, as physically tense as you’ve been this entire time. </p><p>“What <em> did </em> you think of our little tryst?”</p><p>You scowl at her, but she just looks back at you in an all-too-smug way as she sips the ambrosia. You watch an amber-gold drop of liquid slowly drip down her chin with far too much attention, but she quickly wipes it with the back of her wrist.</p><p>"No answer? Of course. Your kind always give me the cold shoulder." She reaches out and traces your cheek with the back of a finger, delicately, as if she thinks you’ll break like wet paper under her touch. “I so rarely meet you chthonic gods, but I must say, every single one I’ve met so far is… quite intriguing.”</p><p>Aphrodite is probing you for an answer, but you want to resist for just a bit longer. “How so?”</p><p>She draws her hand away from your face to count: “Thanatos, for instance, resisted me all too easily, though I have my suspicions as to why. Your sister Alecto is also quite the sight, though -- “</p><p>You grimace. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Let me finish.” Aphrodite flicks you on the nose, but you don’t react. That's her entire game, after all. “Alecto was also not receptive. Neither are any of Nyx’s surface-dwelling children, with a few exceptions…. Nemesis was very good in bed, if a bit rough -- “</p><p>If Nyx ever found out about this, you’re sure she’d rush up to Olympus on foot and kick Aphrodite into the stars. </p><p>“ -- but of all the Underworld gods, why, I think I like you the most.”</p><p>You pause, feeling unreasonably pleased at the revelation. “Why?”</p><p>She leans in, so close you feel her breath against your lips. It smells like ambrosia, sweet and light, and your breath begins to stutter at the half-lidded, sultry gaze she gives you, thoroughly and easily undoing you like a loosely tied knot. </p><p>Aphrodite wraps her arms around your neck, humming softly. “Why do you think, hm?”</p><p>“... for calling you out on your bullshit?”</p><p>She huffs and pulls back. “What<em> bullshit </em>, pray tell? The Hephaestus thing? I wasn’t lying that it’s a sham, neither of us wanted each other. We barely pretend to be married anymore. But poor Lord Zeus, he had to marry me off before I caused a civil war just by daring to be beautiful and existing at the same time! Isn’t that stupid.”</p><p>Insufferably vain, as expected. You blink at her innocently. “That does sound ridiculous. After all, I think I’d rather go to war for Athena’s hand -- “</p><p>You’re extraordinarily pleased at the way Aphrodite’s face contorts, half-angry and half-amused, so uncharacteristic compared to her normally languid, sultry self. “How <em> dare </em>you, after all I’ve done -- “</p><p>“What have you done for me?”</p><p>“I only fucked you into the next century.”</p><p>You purse your lips and pretend to consider. “Last I checked it’s only been a few months and not a century since then, did you hit your head on the bed frame when I -- “</p><p>Aphrodite jabs you in the ribs with a finger. “You know exactly what I mean.”</p><p>You laugh and reach over, trying to gently pry the ambrosia bottle away from her death grip. When she tries to wriggle away into the pile of cushions at the end of the couch, you reach out to grab her by the waist and hold her in place. “You’re drunk.”</p><p>“Oh, you’ll know when I’m drunk, you insufferable ass.” </p><p>“Am I the insufferable one? You've been bothering <em>me</em> all night. And the fucking letter -- you're incapable of leaving me be.” You lean forward and she stops squirming, staring up at you with a strange look that you can't quite place, as you gently pull the bottle out of her hands and place it on the side table. But before you can pull back to your end of the couch, Aphrodite puts her hands on your shoulders and keeps you rooted there.</p><p>“Mhm. Insufferable indeed.” She bites her bottom lip and gives you a once-over that sends fire through your veins, sliding her hands down to your biceps. “Don’t you want to know what the letter said, Megaera?”</p><p>“I thought you told me already.”</p><p>“You seriously can’t be this dense.”</p><p>“You’ll have to try harder for my affection, my lady. We Underworld gods aren’t naturally receptive to your advances.”</p><p>You feel Aphrodite’s hand on the back of your head, pushing you in so close your noses brush. Her eyes, faintly glowing, stare into yours with an absurd intensity, as if she’s trying to burrow into your very being and take root there. You wonder if she already has. “I asked if you’d like to fuck me again sometime.”</p><p>------------</p><p>Later that night, tangled together in her bed, you dream of sea foam and blood.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- Aphro @ meg: u wanna fuck me so bad it makes u look stupid <br/>- This is a direct sequel to my previous fic ‘whiplash’ if you couldn’t tell… but more emotional and less smutty (though eventually, perhaps)<br/>- Even though I typically don’t write in 2nd person pov, I’m doing so for this fic just for consistency’s sake with ‘whiplash’<br/>- I imagine if Nyx drop-kicks Aphrodite it would look like that one Chris Fleming video of him kicking a mailbox (beginning of Gayle episode 7)<br/>- hope u caught the tik tok reference<br/>- i have no idea if this makes sense i have no beta and i wrote this at like 3am bc lesbian brain go woohoo<br/>- and finally: supergiant show us the forbidden wlw. amen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. philia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The roar of battle is deafening below, but the screeches of your sisters as they glide through the air, whips in hand, grate on you even more.</p><p>An arrow whizzes past your head as you fly after them, leaving destruction in your wake -- oaths and alliances broken, mortal bodies torn asunder by the depths of their own hubris and cruelty. You feel the mortal blood congealing on your face and in your hair, over your clothing and dripping down the back of your neck, and you wonder why it’s so warm. </p><p>You spot your target -- a great warrior, towering over everyone in his ornate armor, a howl on his lips and a spear and shield in his hands. He fights desperately, a wild grace about him like an animal, cornered and lashing out at his would-be assailants with mighty swings that send people flying. You expect this, of course, given how outnumbered he and his warriors are, but you’re not sure how he had managed to survive this long. You almost want to give him credit for it.</p><p>Yet he had betrayed his father, had killed him in cold blood for the throne, and so the Furies have been tasked to make him suffer for his crimes. He fights a losing war against the forces of his much more competent older brother, who had years to curry alliances and battle experience. But the Fates are fickle and downright obnoxious, so you don’t want to jump to conclusions.</p><p>Lord Hades had personally sent you and your sisters to the surface to punish this warrior, to deliver him directly to Tartarus for his eternal punishment. The cascading number of crimes committed by him and his allies, he had said, were too much just for one or two of you. Yet you can’t help but think, as you watch your sisters cackle and dance through the droves of combatants, indiscriminate as they lash out at every possible body, that you’d much rather work alone.</p><p>You dive towards the warrior, under the cover of Nyx’s darkness where he cannot see you, cannot avoid you, the wind singing in your ears as you raise your whip. His back is to you as he stabs a man through the neck and throws his body into the crowd of warriors assailing him, nothing more than a rag doll. Charon would have a full boat tonight.</p><p>Your whip comes down across his arm, and he lets out a scream as it burns into his skin, the mark of his crimes permanently etched into his being. He turns towards you, but his hand trembles as he searches for you in the air as you circle overhead, a vulture to its dying prey. You hear Alecto’s laugh cut across the din of battle, and you see a ripple of fear through his warriors as they begin to panic, realizing their plight as they are surrounded by the brother’s forces, as their mighty leader begins to quake. You raise your whip again.</p><p>A flash of red light stops you in your tracks. </p><p>---------------</p><p>“You let him <em> get away </em>?”</p><p>You grimace as Alecto throws down her whip in anger and kicks a stray, dented helmet halfway across the nearly-empty battlefield. It could have been comical, if not for the fact that it hits and kills a bird that’s picking at someone’s entrails.</p><p>“Lord Ares saved him -- “</p><p>“Lord Ares my <em> ass </em> , Meg <em> . </em>” Alecto bares her teeth at you, trembling with anger. Like you, she’s covered in mortal blood, but the red of her clothing disguises much of it. “You’re too fucking slow and soft, that’s what you are. We could have gotten him and ended this right then!”</p><p>“Mrrrr.” Tisiphone nods furiously. </p><p>This again. Always this. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a civil conversation with Alecto and Tisiphone -- perhaps not since you’d risen from the earth, the blood of a primordial god dripping down your faces and through your veins, fiery and raw with a power you haven’t seen anyone but an angry Nyx wield since then. But you had never wanted to be close to them anyway, and they reciprocated that feeling tenfold. The other servants of the House still whisper about you three to this day, despite Alecto and Tisiphone never having stepped foot in there -- that the blood of Titans would boil over, and you’d go mad and destroy them. </p><p>A tempting proposition sometimes, but Lord Hades would surely and easily stop you. </p><p>You roll your eyes as you wipe the blood off your face, but all you do is smear it more across your cheeks. You’ll need to take a bath. You’re too tired to deal with this right now, but blood and darkness, they weren’t going to let it go. “Maybe you should have gone for him, then. But -- what’s that? You were too busy whipping a poor little farm boy in over his head instead of the <em> actual target. </em>”</p><p>Alecto hisses, shark-like teeth bared at you in some type of threat. “That’s part of the job, isn’t it? We punish who we can and as much as possible.”</p><p>“Only the most extreme crimes,” you remind her, resisting the urge to slap yourself, “are reserved for all three of us. And look, he somehow slipped by <em> all of us </em> thanks to having a <em> gods-damned Olympian </em> on his side.”</p><p>“What, you gonna tattle on us to Lord Hades and Nyx?” Your sister makes a disgusted noise and turns away. Tisiphone murmurs in agreement. “Just because you’re allowed in the House doesn’t mean you’re better than us. Pretending like you’re our leader, what a joke.”</p><p>“<em> Murrdeeerreeer </em>,” Tisiphone growls at you, jabbing an accusatory finger in your direction.</p><p>You narrow your eyes. “No Tis, I didn’t <em> tell </em>Nyx to ban you both. She wouldn’t do that. It was Lord Hades’ decision after you both -- ”</p><p>“Mrrr!” </p><p>“Blood and darkness,” you sigh. “What is with you two? Why do you always blame me for that? You could just pipe down and be normal and responsible, or you both can go frolic in Tartarus and Asphodel like you always do.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s just because we’re incompetent, then? That we’re too scary to have around? Fuck right off with that diplomatic nonsense. Didn’t even make a move to defend Tis and I back then. Why should we expect you to give a damn about us now or ever?” Alecto spits at your feet. </p><p>You just watch her with narrowed eyes, feeling anger burning a pit through your chest as she turns away from you. “You don’t make yourselves easy to be around.”</p><p>Alecto lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Uppity assholes, all of you House dogs. Go drink some nectar on your gilded throne there, Meg, and go fuck yourself. We’ll see you when that dumb prince tries again. Come on, Tis.”</p><p>They unfurl their wings and sweep away, leaving you alone amidst the corpse-strewn battlefield. You’ll watch the warriors come back to properly bury the bodies, and then you’ll have to return to the House and wash away the blood of their comrades. What a waste -- and for what reason but a mad prince’s greed?</p><p>You bend over and pick up Alecto’s whip, stained with gore that still drips down the handle and onto your hand. It’s warm.</p><p>Faintly, you hear the vultures cawing.</p><p>---------------</p><p>You wander alone through the forest, Alecto’s whip coiled in your hand as you search for the spring -- the spring where you had met Aphrodite, but which you knew was close to the Underworld entrance where you and your sisters had emerged. The mortals’ blood had since dried on you, all over your exposed skin and clothes and armor, cracking and flaking as you move. You want to pick at it, but that would be a waste of energy that you don’t have.</p><p>Your limbs feel heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t have time to take a nap right now. You aren’t sure you’d wake up within a week, anyway.</p><p>You thank the Fates when you hear running water close by, a familiar rhythm that propels your exhausted body to continue lurching forward despite your desire to keel over and sleep in the dirt. The spring is still there as you part the overgrowth with your hands -- why wouldn’t it be? -- water so clear and blue that you could see the rocks at the bottom. You pray that no naiads are around to see you desecrate the waters with mortal blood. </p><p>Your hands begin to move automatically, dropping the whip to tug at your armor pieces and clothing and toss them into a pile at your feet. You smear your hands with blood as you find your shirt still soaked underneath the chestplate, perhaps from the dripping down your face and neck during the battle and without a chance to dry in the air and sun. It sticks to you like a second skin as you slowly peel it off and place it on a flattened rock surface near the water’s edge. Perhaps it’s salvageable. You could try hand-scrubbing it. </p><p>With a deep sigh, you walk into the water up to your waist. It’s pleasantly cool, lapping at your skin and waking you up as you begin to scrub at the blood on your arms languidly. You can see the red in the water, flakes and tendrils that discolor the clear blue and snake along with the weak current. You can smell it -- or perhaps you’ve gotten blood up your nose somehow, flooding your head with a strong metallic scent that nearly makes you gag. </p><p>You don’t know how long you take to wash your face and torso, as slow and deliberate as you’ve moving. The still-wet blood on your chest flows off easily when you splash water there, but the dried bits on your arms and face require you to scrape with your nails. Your hair, still up in a ponytail, is heavy and clumped with blood, but you’re too tired to reach up and undo it yourself. </p><p>“Well well, aren’t you quite the sight?” </p><p>Your eye catches a flash of pink. Aphrodite floats a foot above the ground at the water’s edge, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she gives you a once-over. She’s wearing her usual jewelry as far as you can tell, naked as always, the usual. You briefly wonder if she’s ever worn a shred of clothing in her life. “Covered in mortal blood, a remarkable choice! It goes very well with your eyes, Megaera.”</p><p>Aphrodite has found you this time, you think to yourself wearily. “Huh.”</p><p>She blinks at you. “No sarcastic quips? My poor little Fury. You must be terribly exhausted after all your hard work today.”</p><p>You turn away to scrape at a dried patch on your shoulder with your fingernail. It flakes off easily. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Lord Ares told me you were on the surface. I wanted to see for myself -- after all, you left me so unceremoniously <em> again </em>. It’s become rather tiring, you know.” Aphrodite approaches, wading into the water after you. “And I assumed very correctly that you’d end up here to wash yourself! I truly am the greatest mind on Olympus, Apollo and Athena be damned.”</p><p>Again? She knows why you left so “unceremoniously” — that you didn’t want to make this a normal thing for you both, that you had work to do while she could gallivant around and fuck whomever she liked. Did she expect kisses and breakfast in bed in the morning? Cuddling and declarations of eternal love? Fuck off.</p><p>“What do you <em> want </em>?” you snap again when she’s a foot away. You can smell a light perfume wafting through the air, though it’s not something you’ve smelled on her before. It cuts through the metallic scent in the air, pleasant and sweet on your poor nose. “Are you here to mock me?”</p><p>She tilts her head at you as you continue to scrub at your skin, taking off as much blood as you can. “I wanted to see you. Is that so wrong?”</p><p>“I’m not in the mood to fuck.” </p><p>“Neither am I if you can believe it, dearest. I’m just a bit curious about something, actually.” Aphrodite smiles at you, but it looks a bit too earnest to be genuine. You notice now that she’s wearing a new hair piece, large and ornamental with glittering jewels and flashy gold. Her <em> husband </em>probably made that for her, if the clear skill in craftsmanship is any indication.</p><p>You push away your sudden discomfort and scoff, splashing water on your arm to clean off any remaining flakes of dried blood. “About what?”</p><p>“Your sisters were here, weren’t they? Lord Ares told me you looked none too pleased about it.”</p><p>You pause, remembering a comment she had made -- how long ago? When she had dragged you up to Olympus with her on your second parchment delivery perhaps two months, though you aren’t sure. Time passes so strangely in the Underworld. You bristle at the memory though, which has stuck in the back of your head since she’d uttered it so casually. “... If you want to sleep with Alecto -- “</p><p>She laughs so loudly it startles and annoys you out of your semi-drowsy state. “I’m solely interested in <em> you</em>. Alecto has already shown she’s not interested in me, but that’s her own foolish decision.”</p><p>You think Alecto has made the smart choice for once in your lives. “Then why are you here?”</p><p>“Again, I just wanted to see you, though you're a bit worse for wear. You look like you’re about to collapse and drown in the spring.” She frowns at the blood in the water, watches the trails curling through the water like red serpents and disappear with the flow. "I'm sure the naiads would be displeased at your floating corpse."</p><p>“The last time you ‘checked’ on me, you weren’t actually concerned.” </p><p>“Oh, have you caught on to my little games? I <em> adore </em> how observant you are of me.” Aphrodite reaches out to pet the stray lock of hair hanging over your circlet, but recoils when she sees the dried blood. “<em>Ugh. </em> Mortal blood is always so messy, how can you stand it?”</p><p>“Some of us have to work for a living, my lady. I’m sure <em> Lord Ares </em> can tell you plenty about mortal wars.” You splash water on your chest, which she watches with an amused look.</p><p>“Surely you could wash yourself faster with a bit of help.” Aphrodite reaches up to tug on the lock, which you hiss at. “How about I help you with your hair, hm? And even your wing, if you’ll let me touch it this time. You can just relax while I take care of you.”</p><p>You regard her suspiciously as she lets go, tensing when she slowly drags the back of her hand against your cheek. “I don’t like how that sounds.”</p><p>“Come now, I’m only offering out of the goodness of my heart! And you can go home as soon as I’m done so you won’t have to hear my voice anymore. I know how it grates on you so.” She giggles and pokes you on the nose playfully. “And despite all your whining, you seem to like it when I touch you.”</p><p>
  <em> Blood and darkness, she’s never going to let that go. </em>
</p><p>You know Aphrodite is going to talk your ear off while she still can, to prod and jab you until she gets what she wants -- whatever that is, this time. But when she reaches forward to weave your fingers together, your exhausted mind shuts down at the mere prospect of being able to act without thinking, and lets her guide you to the shallow end of the spring where she gestures for you to sit. You do so without any complaint except from your aching knees. The water goes up to your chest in this position, but you can also see without much effort that there’s not much blood left on your legs from how long you’ve been soaking in the spring. You reach forward to scrape off a bit here and there with your nails.</p><p>“Won’t even put up a fight anymore, poor baby. I always enjoy our verbal sparring, especially when you talk down to me.” Aphrodite moves behind you, kneeling in the water to carefully undo your golden hair piece. Your hair spills down your back, floating in the water behind you as she takes a blue lock in her hand. “Where are your sisters now, hm? Hiding in the bushes away from big scary Megaera?”</p><p>“They left.” You hug your knees to your chest as her fingers creep under your chin to force you to tilt your head back. “Good riddance.”</p><p>She hums to herself, running her fingers through your hair. They snag on a few knots and she makes a disgusted noise as she splashes water on your head. You sputter and wipe the excess water out of your eyes, but she doesn't react at all as she begins to examine your hair. “Did you happen to fall head-first in gore? I expected this from Ares, but not you.”</p><p>Ares this, Ares that. You feel a twinge of annoyance as you run a wet hand over your face. When you look at it, you see watery blood dripping from your fingers -- perhaps Aphrodite had rehydrated the dried bits on your scalp a bit too well, dunking half of Poseidon's ocean on you. You stick your hand back in the water to rinse it off. “Well, you’re not playing with <em> his </em> hair right now, are you? All he did was teleport in and out with that brat of a prince, not a speck of blood on his shiny armor.”</p><p>“Jealousy is a nice look on you, I must admit,” she purrs back, picking at some knots to untangle them. You roll your eyes. “The absolute <em> romance </em>of being fought and pined over. What a thrill.”</p><p>That certainly explains a lot of the stories you’ve heard about Aphrodite, but you don’t feel as thrilled in turn. Crossing paths with Ares is very low on your list of things to do within an eternity, and you don’t feel very good about your chances with him. Or Hephaestus for that matter. Or even Alecto, if Aphrodite keeps dangling that threat over your head.</p><p>“I’m not going to fight over you,” you snap. “They can have you if they want.”</p><p>Aphrodite pauses, sounding extremely amused. “‘They’? Are you thinking about my husband again? Ares?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?” </p><p>“You needn’t involve yourself in that business, my little Fury.” You feel her splashing water on you and then her fingers, running down your spine as she rubs at a spot on the small of your back. You shiver at the touch. “Us Olympians are <em> such </em>a mess. I can perfectly handle myself and them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”</p><p>You feel like you should be fuming right now -- that Aphrodite has dragged you into this strange web of hers, where now you’re vulnerable to the ire of two different Olympians because of the large heaps of attention she’s been giving you. But all you can feel is weariness weighing you down as you grunt in agreement, half-ready to nod off and join Hypnos on whatever plane of existence he’s on while asleep. Hephaestus and Ares would have gotten you already if that’s their plan -- vulnerable as you are right now, exhausted and naked and much too pliable for your liking.</p><p>You both are silent for a while as Aphrodite methodically washes your hair. You hear the water gurgling as it flows into the spring, the splashing of Aphrodite moving around behind you and the cool water lapping up against your arms and shoulders, the breeze rustling through the trees. It’s so tranquil your ears ring just thinking about the battle earlier today, the screams and the clashing metal and the wind in your ears as you zipped across the field, searching for your target like a bird of prey. But you feel like you’re floating now, limbs heavy, eyes half-shut and head in the clouds as your entire world fixates on Aphrodite’s hands in your hair, softly and gently cleaning out the blood and knots, fingernails scraping against your scalp in an extremely satisfying way. You inhale deeply, catching the faintest hint of perfume again.</p><p>You could drown like this, you think.</p><p>“Do you get along with your sisters?” Aphrodite asks you suddenly, wringing out a fistful of your hair. </p><p>You scoff. “Absolutely not.” </p><p>The sun is setting, a soft orange over the treeline as Helios drifts down towards the horizon. The air is cool against your face. It would have been a perfect day, but your thoughts drift back to the field of corpses, and when you inhale through your nose you can smell the metal in the mortals’ blood. You almost gag again.</p><p>“Do you want to?” She tilts your head back further with her fingers against your chin. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>"... that's it?"</p><p>"That's it. No." </p><p>“You chthonic gods, you always make it so hard for me to pick your brains. <em> You </em> especially are a brat about answering me -- even more dodgy than Lord Hermes if that’s possible.” Aphrodite tsks and picks at a tangled knot with her fingernails. </p><p>You roll your eyes. “What does this have to do with my sisters?”</p><p>Aphrodite slowly lets your hair fall from her hand, likely finished washing it now as she picks at something on your shoulder. “Family is a strange thing, isn’t it? Why, the Olympians barely consider me a part of their little circle.”</p><p>Considering that most of the Olympians are Lord Zeus’ children or siblings, then yes, you can see why she’s not. “Do they not treat you well?”</p><p>She pauses for a long moment, as if she's at a loss for words for the first time since you've met her. “Sometimes, sometimes not -- as is normal for any dysfunctional family, I suppose. I imagine your sisters don’t, given what you’ve said already.”</p><p>She’s not wrong. You fight back a yawn as you tilt your head forward again, rubbing the back of your neck to assuage the stiffness there. “They blame me for their being banned from the House. Always my fault, never theirs.”</p><p>“Oh? Why?”</p><p>“They’re wildly violent and abrasive. You’ve probably seen them in battle a few times, considering how much you like babbling about Alecto.” You can feel the beginnings of a headache forming, that familiar dull pain in your forehead that always comes with a bout against your sisters. Or perhaps you just need to sleep for a bit. Or eat. Or drink. “They think I have a superiority complex.”</p><p>“Hm. So you don’t want to repair your relationship with them?” You feel Aphrodite’s hands on your wing now, fingers gently dancing along the membrane there as if she’s playing the lyre. You exhale sharply through your nose at the feeling but don’t stop her as she begins to rub circles into it, cleaning off the bits of blood you’d never be able to reach on your own.</p><p>“We can’t.” </p><p>“And why not?”</p><p>You don’t know. But you know you don’t want to be around them if you can help it -- to be involved in all their messes that you’ll have to directly answer to Lord Hades for, that you have to fix because you’re the most level-headed of the three. It’s a blessing to be allowed in the House, but that just means you’re under Lord Hades’ and Lady Nyx’s close scrutiny, like you’re a ticking time bomb that they’ve contained for everyone else’s safety. They probably expect you to become like Alecto and Tisiphone, to go wild with bloodlust in battle and lose yourself and all the discipline you’ve built up over the millennia. You should feel grateful for the privilege to just be in the House at all, but you really aren’t when you dig deep enough to admit it: you’re a well-trained dog at Lord Hades’ beck and call, just like Alecto had said. At least your sisters are free to be themselves, wandering around the rest of the Underworld without the need to do paperwork or force themselves to be cordial to any shitty House bureaucrat. </p><p>You feel a dull pain and realize your hand has closed in a tight fist, digging your nails into the palm of your hand. </p><p>“Megaera?” You think Aphrodite sounds mildly concerned, but it’s always so hard to tell with her.</p><p>You blink and relax your hand before you begin to bleed. You don’t want to look at her face, where she’d likely meet your gaze with feigned concern, as if she actually does give a damn about anything you do that’s not related to sex with her. “I just… don’t want to, I think.”</p><p>“And that is completely your choice!” she coos without pause, a bit more forcefully than her normal musical tone. She splashes a bit of water on your wing and rubs at a spot there, close to the base of your spine where you surely would have dislocated your arm to reach. You twitch at the sudden pressure she uses, but relax when she returns to fiddling with your hair. You should have told her to leave your wing alone. “You choose who you love, especially your family, and hopefully they’ll reciprocate that love.”</p><p>Is she preaching at you right now? The Fates are raving in circles around you today. You let out a harsh bark of laughter, raspy with exhaustion and the desire to sink into the earth to get out of this conversation. “Nobody loves me, can’t you tell?” </p><p>“Why, I’m absolutely shocked. You seem like you put great time and effort into your relationships.” Aphrodite sounds a bit more than sarcastic as she runs her fingers through your hair in an attempt to comb it, though without an actual brush you’re sure it will still look bad despite her efforts. “Perhaps if you <em>try</em> to be nice to people, they’ll actually love you.”</p><p>“Love won’t help me in any meaningful way, so why would I.”</p><p>“Well, it seems like it’s helping you right now.” She tugs on your hair playfully, but it doesn’t hurt -- unlike the times she’d done it during your past few meetings.</p><p>You huff with laughter. The absolute audacity of this woman. “Right. Well, Lady Aphrodite, I don’t think fucking twice counts as love.”</p><p>“And who are you to tell me that?” she replies breezily. You feel her hands sliding down to your back, and then she begins to rub firm circles into the aching muscles there. You nearly melt at the feeling, wing twitching in response to the sudden stimulation. “Ms. <em> Nobody-Loves-Me </em> wouldn’t know love if it hit her in the face.”</p><p>She’s right, but you don’t want to tell her that as she massages you into a liquid state. “Again, I don't need any of that nonsense.”</p><p>“Perhaps I’m being pedantic here, little Fury, but everyone <em> needs </em>some type of love -- just because you don’t <em> want </em>it doesn’t mean you'll survive without it. Your little lone wolf facade is adorable, by the way.” </p><p>“That ‘facade’ helps me survive in the Underworld, so I’ll keep it up as much as I like.” At the very least, it keeps you from feeling any guilt about your role in the House -- punishing adulterers, people who have committed crimes against the gods or their laws, whatever you’ve been assigned to. Your job doesn’t leave much room for any nice touchy-feely emotions or introspection, you think, unless you’d like to go down a rabbit hole of existential dread because you were literally born to be like this. “You don’t need to worry about me.”</p><p>“But surely you’re lonely down there? Nobody to rely on, to confide in...?” Aphrodite sounds insistent, very obviously prodding at you for something now. What game she’s playing here, you don’t want to know -- but it doesn’t take a genius to see that she’s picking at your mind like a vulture to a corpse, trying to devour every available bit of you that she can. You shouldn’t have said anything about your sisters. You shouldn’t have even gone to bathe in the spring, shouldn't have let her help you -- shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't. You're making a lot more mistakes with her than you can ever justify to yourself, leaving yourself more and more exposed to her prodding like an ever-widening wound.</p><p>“Are you lonely on Olympus?” you counter as you begin to stand, despite the creaking protest of your knees from disuse. Her hands fall away from your back, almost like she’s been burned. “I’m going home now, Lady Aphrodite, and maybe you should too. I'm sure the other Olympians will be happy to aimlessly chat with you.”</p><p>Aphrodite watches you, mouth pressed into an uncharacteristic thin line. "You have no idea what Olympus is like."</p><p>"And you don't know a damned thing about me or the Underworld. Thank you for your time." You make your way over to the shoreline, reaching for your shirt on the rock. It's still bloody, but now it's disgusting and dry from its time in the sun. You'll just have to throw it away when you get home. You'll have to put it on and take another bath anyway, since you can't wander through the Underworld in the nude.</p><p>You dress quickly and efficiently, pulling on your clothing and armor in record time. Everything is still bloody, but you can wash most of it later in your quarters. You don’t look at Aphrodite at all, but you hear a splash behind you as you secure your chestplate and make sure you haven’t lost Alecto’s whip or your own in your rush to bathe. You still feel exhausted, but you'll probably make it back to the House without much issue. You can get Charon to make the effort to return Alecto's whip on your way down.</p><p>Before you silently disappear through the trees, you turn and see Aphrodite sitting on a rock at the edge of the spring, staring blankly at her reflection in the water. Her hair piece, so flashy and bright, is gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><br/>- thanks for the kind comments and kudos from last chapter y’all, really appreciate it &lt;3<br/>- two immortaaaaaallllsss, sitting two inches apart because they’re wuhluhwuh<br/>- I kept forgetting Meg has a single wing while writing this LMAO. r u a Popeyes kids meal like damn girl<br/>- are all the chthonic gods emotionally constipated or is it just me? get some vitamin D and maybe y’all will feel better.<br/>- and finally: Supergiant show us the forbidden wlw. Amen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. storge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>!!!!!!!!SPOILERS WARNING:!!!!!!!!<br/>the very last line is an endgame spoiler do not read that SINGLE line if you haven't reached and beaten the final boss at least once</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You only remember your hair ornament when you reflexively reach for it on your bedside table the next day, still groggy with a good fourteen hours’ sleep. When your hand closes over nothing, your stomach twists.</p><p>But you don’t go back for it. You forget about it after a time, actually, because you can easily obtain another in the House simply by asking Nyx for an extra and why would you return to <em> her </em>? You may as well crawl on your hands and knees up to Olympus too. You’ve already exposed yourself as touch-starved, nigh generally desperate -- and Aphrodite is not a goddess you want to expose your weaknesses to. </p><p>So you don’t talk to her again. </p><p>But it’s almost as if the feeling is mutual -- as if she’s purposefully avoiding you too, and at first you’re fine with that. You don’t need her around to distract you from your work. You don’t need her clinging to you like a puppy, snarking at you from every turn, touching you so gently you think she’s mistaken you for one of her little birds, burrowing into your mind with a well-placed smile and giggle.</p><p>Years pass. You bury yourself in your work, on your surface hunts and on doling out punishments in Tartarus. </p><p>You only see her a handful of times during your surface forays. Neither of you even dare to glance at each other, and the one time your gazes meet it seems as if she’s staring through you, at the field of still-warm corpses behind you where vultures circle overhead. It suits you fine. Wartime is not the place to reignite… whatever you had.</p><p>You try to forget about Aphrodite, the longer this goes on.</p><p>But still. </p><p>You think of her, when you emerge from the Underworld and remember the spring nearby. You remember the way she looked the last time you spoke, the forlorn gaze into the water, her missing hair jewelry. You remember her coy smile, the tilt of her head, the gentle way she touched your face — the way she shuddered beneath you, scratching lines down your back with her nails, heated whispers in the dark of her chambers, her lips on your neck and mouth.</p><p>And alone in your room, you remember how her eyes glowed pink in the dark, specks of light that drew you in like a moth to a flame and made your heart pound in your chest with the strength of Hephaestus’ hammer striking an anvil.</p><p>Every time you think of her, you feel like you’re missing something -- some hole in your chest, a nagging at the back of your head as the image of her at the spring flashes in your mind, the sudden splash echoing in your head. You don’t know what it is. You think you care about it, but you also don’t feel inclined to dig up all those old, conflicting feelings.</p><p>So you do what any reasonable god might: you try to shove those feelings away and let them fester. </p><p>-------------</p><p>The Underworld is humid and dim as you soar through the air and towards the gates bearing Lord Hades’ sigil. The air is acrid, smelling of death and decay like a body left to rot in some forgotten corner -- almost a slap in the face, compared to the biting smell of <em> cold </em> on the wintery surface. The snow that had collected on you had melted as soon as you reached the fiery fields of Asphodel, flooded once again in a mockery of the seasonal changes on the surface. </p><p>Below you, Charon steers his boat down the River Styx, well-practiced strokes propelling his cargo faster along the rough currents. You can see a sack of mail bearing Lord Hermes’ mark at his feet and the spirits huddled together like a pack of frightened kittens, as far away as they can get from the ghastly boatman. You almost pity them.</p><p>The stone gates groan open upon your approach, and you glide lower and lower until you land safely on your feet on the gray stone dock they reveal. Charon pulls in after you, using his oar to push the boat closer to the shore and anchor it down.</p><p>Nyx waits for you both there, hands clasped before her as she casually surveys the spirits that clamber out of Charon’s boat and towards the judgment line. Her eyes meet yours and she inclines her head in greeting. You return the gesture. </p><p>“Megaera, Charon. Welcome home.” Nyx inclines her head again as you and Charon bow in turn. “I sense that no trouble has befallen either of you on your assignments?”</p><p>“<em>Hrrraaaaah.</em>” Charon makes a sweeping gesture with one bony hand, to which his mother nods. You briefly wonder if he has always spoken this way -- and as far as you can remember, he has, even though you think he’s just the slightest bit older than you. (But time doesn’t exist to gods, and especially not in the Underworld, so even you have a muddled timeline of your existence in the House.)</p><p>“Very good, my child. And you, Megaera?”</p><p>You recite your answer almost mechanically, practiced and well-oiled with the experience of thousands of verbal reports to Nyx: “The target was assassinated by his enemies by the time I found him. He’ll be joining Charon in his boat shortly. No need for further action at this time.” </p><p>Nyx nods again before pointing to the sack of mail at Charon’s feet. “And of this, Charon? What deliveries have you brought from your friend Lord Hermes today?”</p><p>“<em>Heeehhhh.</em>” You can swear that Charon is blushing, but you also don’t know what that might look like given his… face situation. He opens the sack and begins to pull out parchment rolls by the fistful, handing them to you as he does so to allow Nyx to pull out her own letters before you deliver the rest to Lord Hades. You can see Lord Zeus’ and Lord Poseidon’s symbols on some -- and Poseidon’s parchment rolls are somehow soaking wet and dripping water down your arms -- but there are some other interesting ones, such as Lady Athena’s and Lord Ares’ marks. </p><p>Nyx peruses the parchments that Charon and you hold, pulling out a few for herself: one marked with Nemesis’ balance, a few with Lord Zeus’ lightning bolt, Thanatos’ very familiar butterfly, something that she tsks at aloud that immediately makes you think of Eris. She picks at Poseidon’s dripping letters, and to your relief begins depositing them on a stone pedestal on the dock (for this explicit purpose) with wet slaps that make you physically uncomfortable. But suddenly she raises her eyebrows for the briefest moment when she pulls out a roll and examines the seal, but you can’t see what it is amidst the growing pile you’re trying to balance in your arms. Blood and darkness, Charon is rushing this on purpose.</p><p>You nudge the boatman with your foot to get him to slow down, when Nyx hums softly and comments, a little too inquisitively, “I did not know that you converse with the Lady Aphrodite, Megaera?” </p><p>Your heart drops straight into Erebus. “What?”</p><p>“<em>Haaaaaahhh.</em>”</p><p>You glare down at Charon, who just grins as he hands you another fistful of parchment rolls.</p><p>Nyx regards you with her usual blank expression again as she simply places the roll on the pedestal, as far away from the puddle of Poseidon’s letters as she can manage. “Your personal business is none of my concern, so long as it does not interfere with your duties.”</p><p>You eye the roll, feeling a sudden sense of dread anchoring you to the dock. You remember the last time she tried to send you a letter -- and you had burnt it in the fireplace without even looking at it like an absolute ass. <em> And she had sensed it burning that time, too. </em> “Yes, my lady.”</p><p>“Very good. Please deliver the rest of these letters directly to Lord Hades so that Charon can return to his duties, Megaera. I would like to meet with you before you return to the surface again, so please find me in my usual place after you have sufficiently rested.”</p><p>“Yes, my lady,” you reply. You can’t see her anymore over the parchment stack in your arms, but when Charon begins to pull the rolls out of your hand and back into his sack you find that she has disappeared. </p><p>“<em>Heeeehhhh.</em>” He grins at you smugly, purple smoke emanating from his wrinkled, skeletal mouth as he points to the letter on the pedestal. “<em>Haaaaaah? </em>”</p><p>The fact that he somehow remembers the first Aphrodite letter, despite the many years that have passed since then, is an embarrassing miracle and a half to you. You grunt as he hands you the sack of letters. “No, this isn’t a normal thing. I don’t tease you about Hermes, do I? Even when you’re<em> clearly </em> rushing to go fuck his brains out.”</p><p>Charon shrugs casually as he shuffles back onto his boat, taking his oar in both hands to push off from the dock. "<em>Heeh-hoooooooo.</em>”</p><p>“Get out before I whip you, you ass.” You’ll certainly remember to tease him over it next time. And perhaps you could take his oar and beat Hermes over the head with it for repeatedly making you go to Olympus to deliver all the correspondences he’d <em> somehow </em> forget -- six times over the past half-century, the first two times being… <em> ugh. </em> You watch him go, borne by the currents of the winding Styx back to the Underworld’s entrance. </p><p>With an indignant sniff, you unceremoniously shove Poseidon’s wet letters back into the sack, cringing physically at the feeling of too-wet paper almost turning to mush in your hand, and then quickly re-tie the sack like you’re sealing away an evil, venomous little rat in the Temple of Styx. You wipe your hand on your pants, eyeing the pink heart seal on the remaining letter sitting on the pedestal. </p><p>And then, against your better judgment, you take Aphrodite’s letter and slip it into a small pouch on your belt.</p><p>You don’t remember what Lord Hades says as you deliver the sack of letters, besides some snarky comment about Lord Poseidon being an oaf, nor do you respond when Hypnos calls a hesitant greeting after you as you make a beeline for your chambers. In fact, it feels like you’d just teleported from the dock to your drab little bedroom, light-headed and much too speedy to register anything that happened.</p><p>But when you’re safely inside, you move without thinking: you light a single candle on your desk, barely a quarter of a wax stump left from late nights (nights? days?) of writing reports, editing all the shitty ones Hypnos has done as “preparation” to take on a more active role in the House, reviewing and memorizing lists of punishments for your Tartarus rotations with your sisters. You pull out Aphrodite’s letter and place it delicately on the table, perfectly centered like a piece of artwork in a gallery. Then you just stare at it blankly, as if trying to will it out of existence by sheer force of determination. It stays put.</p><p>You adjust it. It’s off-center now. You adjust it again. </p><p>And then you step back like it’s an Elysian egg bomb waiting to explode. You wait. It doesn’t.</p><p>And then you shift forward and your hands begin to move by themselves again, nearly tearing the parchment in your haste to open and unroll it, breath bated, heart threatening to pound its way out of your ribcage and into her waiting hands. Aphrodite’s handwriting is atrociously cutesy, large and swirling with little hearts dotting her i’s. You briefly wonder, with a strange and strangled titter, if Hades has burned her letters too, just to avoid her handwriting. It seems like something he wouldn’t tolerate. </p><p>It even smells vaguely like perfume, a familiar scent that you can’t quite place but which you know you like. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dearest Megaera, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s been quite a long time since we’ve spoken, hasn’t it? I do so miss your barbed tongue in more ways than one. I’ve spoken with Thanatos a few times to see how you have been faring, though he’s always so curt to me. I very much suspect he’s jealous of all the attention I’ve given you! You are still my favorite of the chthonic gods, however, despite all the time that has passed since our last meeting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But to the true point of this letter, even though I’d much rather dilly-dally and talk in circles but Lord Ares and Lady Athena are essentially holding me hostage until I write this letter to you because they’re allegedly “busy” with more important work, as if my work is not equally important at all: Lord Ares, Lady Athena, and I would like to commend you for your hard work during this past war. Lord Ares himself has written a letter directly to Lord Hades regarding your performance, so very well done. Very. We have always thought quite highly of you Furies’ skills in battle and as arbiters of justice. Hooray for you. (Thankfully neither of them will have time to proofread this before I send it along, thank the Fates. Perhaps I will draw an artistic nude self-portrait of myself for your enjoyment… or not, that’s too much work and I’d like you to actually read this, rather than burning it on sight again.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I wish we hadn’t parted on such poor terms, but alas, these past few decades have been quite busy for the both of us, so it would be quite difficult to sit and talk again. But I do sincerely hope you are well. Feel free to write back if you wish, or not, I don’t wish to pressure you and I do understand your time is very precious. Perhaps we’ll meet again at our little spring. I do rather miss the little hair ornament I had worn that day, but unfortunately I lost it when we parted. No matter, I have a better one now. Personally I haven’t been there in years, but I hope to return very soon if it still exists. I need a bit of tranquility in my life again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> May our paths cross again, whenever the Fates will it so.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Forever yours, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Aphrodite </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Forever yours. </em> What a cruel joke. You nearly toss the letter into the trash, but when you flick your wrist to send it flying, you find that your fingers won’t let go of it. Maybe she charmed it this time with some of her <em>strange Olympian powers</em>, to keep you from throwing it away or burning it immediately. It wouldn't be out of the question, truly, though you aren't sure if she'd stoop that low with you.</p><p>So you put it back down on the table and flatten it out by firmly running the palm of your hand all over it. </p><p>Her hair ornament. Your hair ornament. You’d quite forgotten about those little trinkets, but they had never been important to you in the first place. But you do remember her sitting on the rock alone -- hair piece gone -- the <em> splash </em>--</p><p>Had she thrown it away? On purpose? It couldn’t have just fallen off by itself, not with that clearly Hephaestus-quality craftsmanship. What game is she playing here?</p><p>And the spring. Always back to the spring. You had heard it on your way back to the Underworld today, but you probably just ignored it as you had learned to do since your last meeting. You had decided altogether to avoid going there, even when you’re soaked with congealing blood from your involvement in some mortal war, just in case Aphrodite also coincidentally decided to be there. It’s just an added bonus that you also could avoid any water nymphs that were pissed off about you sullying their spring with mortal blood the last time.</p><p>What was the last thing she’d said to you? "<em>You have no idea what Olympus is like. </em>” </p><p>No, no, further back. You scowl as you try to remember: “<em>But surely you’re lonely down there? Nobody to rely on, to confide in…? </em>”</p><p><em> Lonely. Nobody to confide in</em>. If she’s desperate enough to write a letter wishing you two could meet again, of all the lovestruck idiots she has at her disposal and despite how bitchy you've been to her, then she must really be lonely and desperate up on her gilded pedestal. </p><p>And you must be lonely to entertain the very thought of returning to the spring too, but that’s more on you having no spine than the enticing thought of a salacious affair with the goddess of love. You don’t actually miss her the same way she’s hinting at missing you (or your tongue). </p><p>You don’t <em>think </em> you miss her, at least. </p><p>Fuck. You need a drink.</p><p>-------------</p><p>The lounge is probably the worst place you can be right now, bustling with random shades waiting for judgment or from other House workers on break that glance at you nervously and whisper amongst themselves, but it’s the only place you can reasonably sit without looking out of place. It really doesn’t help that Lord Hades has taken on an anti-alcohol crusade after Eris had come down to visit her mother, had gotten drunk, and destroyed half the lounge by “accident.” So here you’ve been for the past hour, pathetically nursing the same drink this entire time: three-parts water and one-part shitty wine, sadly sitting in the corner like someone who’s been stood up. You wonder if Lord Hades has specifically contracted Dionysus to curse the supply’s quality, because there is no way that any wine made and exchanged by the gods would be this bad without being cursed.</p><p>You don’t know how Lord Hades would feel about you cavorting with an Olympian -- and especially one goddess of love. You imagine it can’t end well.</p><p>You stare at the scratches in the green tabletop, wondering when was the last time Lord Hades had paid the contractor to replace the furniture. Probably not since he and Nyx had first built up the House together. Cheap old man. You have the vague feeling that all of the better decor in the House didn’t come from him.</p><p>“Megaera?”</p><p>You feel a light tap on your shoulder and glance to your side and up to see Nyx, looking down at you. As usual, there’s no expression on her face -- just a blank stare that sends a shiver down your spine, even though you know she means no harm. “Hello, Nyx.”</p><p>“How long have you been here, my child?”</p><p>“An hour.”</p><p>She tilts her head but says nothing as she takes the seat across from you. A servant immediately bustles out to place a glass of wine in front of her -- and you note sourly that hers doesn’t look as nearly watered-down as yours. Primordial privileges, you suppose, though Nyx doesn’t seem like the type to throw a tantrum over not getting good alcohol. Growing up under her care, you had only heard a slightly stern tone, amplified by the strange reverberation underlying her voice, at worst -- and even that was enough to activate your flight response. </p><p>“You should sleep,” she tells you. An order. </p><p>“I tried,” you lie, but you probably don’t sound convincing by the way she levels her gaze at you. “Didn’t work.”</p><p>“Shall I ask Hypnos to aid you?”</p><p>Your mouth twists in disgust. “No thank you, my lady.”</p><p>Nyx hums as she raises the glass to her mouth and takes a small sip. “I suppose you read Lady Aphrodite’s letter then?”</p><p>You blanch, but really, you should have expected her to ask. “I… yes. How did you guess?”</p><p>“You did not seem pleased to receive it earlier.” She tilts her head, and you swear you can see the faintest flicker of a smile on her face. But you’re probably just delirious from trying to decode Aphrodite’s head-spinning letter. “That usually is not the case regarding letters from Lady Aphrodite, when she deigns to write anything at all. Even for myself.”</p><p>You don’t know where this conversation is going, but you don’t like it. “... I suppose. It was just some nonsense, nothing important.”</p><p>“Lord Ares and Lady Athena sent a letter commending your work to Lord Hades and I. They mentioned Aphrodite might do the same, though they weren’t sure if she would. Is this related, my child?”</p><p>“... yes.”</p><p>“I don’t believe that is nonsense, then. It is a rather high compliment from the three of them.” She takes another miniscule sip of wine. You guess that she’ll get through the entire glass at this rate within fifty mortal generations, give or take. “But regardless, it has upset you. What is troubling you, then?”</p><p>Do you want to tell Nyx about your strange interactions with Aphrodite? You can spare her all the salacious details, of course, but she can easily guess what’s been going on regardless of how you phrase it. And maybe you shouldn’t say anything too revealing in the lounge, where the House servants are always eager for more gossip to spread. </p><p>“It’s… complicated.” </p><p>She tilts her head. “A complicated Olympian. How droll.”</p><p>Nyx is just teasing you now. It’s the same dry humor you’ve overheard her using with her sons -- mostly with Hypnos, who has amplified it enough to be considered mean. Then again you haven’t met many of her other children, besides Charon and Thanatos, maybe Eris or Nemesis occasionally when you encounter them during a war on the surface.</p><p>You exhale deeply through your nose. It wouldn’t hurt to reveal a few details -- at least, you know that she won’t mock you for it and would take the secret to her immortal grave if you so desired. In a low voice, barely a raspy whisper, you tell her: “We’ve… seen each other, a few times. We haven’t in a while, though.”</p><p>Nyx says nothing.</p><p>“I think... she misses me.”</p><p>Nyx regards you blankly. You hate not knowing how she feels, when literally every other god you’ve met is wildly theatrical in comparison -- even Lord Hades and his monotonously booming voice and ever-present scowl is a thousand times more expressive than her. “And you are upset about this, my child?”</p><p>“She’s playing mind games with me.” You gulp down your wine, barely feeling the slight burn down your throat from the alcohol. It isn’t strong enough to get you drunk, barely enough to hydrate you as it is. “Her of all the gods, pining. Can you believe that?”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“No.” You pause, feeling unsettled by the way Nyx stares at you. It’s the same type of look that Aphrodite would give you when she wanted to gently pry out how you were feeling, but with the primordial goddess of night it takes on a completely chilling, more ominous aura. You break eye contact to stare at the table again. “Not for a minute, not from someone like her. It’s all a game to her -- to all of the Olympians.” </p><p>She watches you for another moment before casually taking another sip. It’s more than a little awkward, seeing someone so regal sitting there at the table like you’re two friends having a pleasant conversation over drinks. “Is there anything I can do to comfort you, then?”</p><p>“... have you ever loved anyone, Nyx?”</p><p>She tilts her head quizzically. “My children, yes.”</p><p>You don’t know if Nyx is capable of love -- or perhaps she just hasn’t clearly shown or said it while raising you and your sisters, three near-feral little demons that would have driven any other god insane. Maybe she is. She had tried her best with you Furies, hadn’t quit even though she could have dropped you three into the deepest depths of Tartarus at any time, but Tisiphone and Alecto had been rather hopeless cases and she barely got you into decent enough shape to be allowed into the House at all. You’re also not sure how affectionate she can be with the children she had actually birthed, considering that a good majority of them are scattered between the three realms and usually don’t ever talk to you.</p><p>You know that Nyx respects you and vice versa. But you don’t know if she loves you. Or if she’s capable of the feeling. But she had raised you, had secured you a job and a home, so isn’t that enough to be love? </p><p>Do <em> you </em> know what love even feels like? </p><p>You swallow. Your mouth feels dry. “But romantically.”</p><p>She regards you with that same blank look. Always those eyes, boring into you like they’re searching for the inmost depths of your soul. You wish she could emote more, but then again, the prospect of seeing Nyx smiling is… a rather frightening thought, actually, never mind. “Perhaps not. Perhaps the lord of darkness Erebus once, yet we do not feel as you younger gods do. It appears that the younger the generation, the more you act and feel as mortals do.”</p><p>You consider this for a moment. You can see it, comparing yourself to Lord Hades and further on to Nyx, but you have very few references for primordial gods otherwise. Perhaps someday you could meet another primordial, like Eos or… literally anyone else. “That is a… fair assessment. But I don’t know what to do now.”</p><p>“You should do what you think is best for yourself -- if you wish to concentrate on your duties to this House, then avoid her. If you wish to pursue her, then try. But to wallow in your feelings only hurts yourself.”</p><p>You gently trace the rim of your cup with your fingertips, considering for a long moment. “If I… go see her… I don’t know what will happen. She might actually hate me.”</p><p>“Whatever the Fates have willed, surely. But it is only by your initiative that the webs of fate are woven or severed.” Another small sip. Nyx exhales softly as she puts her glass down. “Do you love her?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Do you wish to know?”</p><p>“It would make my life much easier, yes.”</p><p>Nyx’s eyebrow goes up for so brief a moment that you think you’re hallucinating. Maybe it was just a muscle spasm. “Knowing takes time and clear thinking. Do not rush into anything impulsively.”</p><p>You laugh, low and tired. “Of course. You know me better than that.”</p><p>She hums, reaching across the table to readjust the golden circlet on your head. “All gods are prone to impulse. While I know you are more disciplined in this regard, you are in a volatile situation. When your thoughts are clear, think carefully about what you want.”</p><p>“They’re clear now,” you mutter. But you catch her mouth suddenly twitching, almost pressing into a displeased thin line. </p><p>“Sleep then, or don’t, it does not matter to me,” she tells you, a slight edge to her voice that almost makes you reconsider your entire existence. “But think and act carefully, Megaera. You have my permission to leave the House whenever you wish. Find her if you will. Or return to the surface to clear your head, outside of the House. I cannot stop you from making your own decisions or mistakes, but I trust you will find yourself in the end."</p><p>You frown, watching her face for any more strange micro-expressions. Nothing. “What about my assignment?”</p><p>“I will send Alecto in your stead. Consider this… personal leave. I will deal with Lord Hades if he protests. Good luck, my child.”</p><p>You pause as she pulls your empty glass away from you. Nyx waves you away, dismissing you.</p><p>
  <em> Find her. </em>
</p><p>“Thank you,” you say. And you stand and let your feet carry you back to the end of the dock, where a new line of souls for judgment have just arrived. Charon’s boat has already drifted away, but judging by how many souls are now in the House he can't be far. You'll probably see him on your way out.</p><p>As the great stone gates slide open again, you turn your head when you hear a high-pitched voice calling out. Down the hall, you see Hypnos bounce up to Nyx excitedly, babbling utter nonsense at her as she nods sagely. You watch her straighten his cape for him as he talks, wildly waving around a roll of parchment. </p><p>You pause. You notice her turning her head towards you -- and then she waves you away again, looking as displeased as she possibly can. But she’s not going to stop you.</p><p>So you turn and take flight, back down the Styx after Charon.</p><p>--------------</p><p>The spring is still here. Why wouldn’t it be? Maybe you’d secretly hoped that it had somehow dried up and then you could just leave, but the strange force that propelled you up and out of the Underworld and back to the spring is something that mildly frightens you.</p><p>Or maybe that’s just Aphrodite’s curse worming its way through your head again. Or you’ve somehow become drunk on a single glass of watered-down wine. Maybe Aphrodite had gotten Dionysus to help her. Maybe the wine wasn’t bad at all, and it was really a curse from him making you feel so confused.</p><p>Or maybe you’re just an idiot. It’s not a surprising revelation.</p><p>It’s not snowing anymore, but the sudden temperature drop between the Underworld and the surface sends you reeling for a moment. The nighttime cold is much worse than the day’s, but at least you couldn’t be blinded by sunlight reflected off the snow right now. A fresh layer of snow has covered up your footprints from earlier today, clean white for as far as you can see.</p><p>The spring is a short speed-walk away. A thin sheet of ice covers the surface of the water, and you can’t hear the characteristic gurgling water flow. All you hear is the crunch of snow beneath your shoes, the soft breeze of cold air shaking the bare trees, the sound of your own breathing as you try to warm yourself.</p><p>She’s not here. She doesn’t need to be -- you don’t know if you want her around right now, anyway, but knowing her she’d somehow find a way to pop up.</p><p>“‘<em>I do rather miss the little hair ornament I had worn that day,’” </em>you mutter, in a nasally mimic of Aphrodite’s voice. “Did you play discus with it?”</p><p>It would explain the splash you had heard before. And it isn’t out of character for her to be so gods-damned dramatic.</p><p>It was a gift from her husband, wasn’t it? Well-crafted, intricate, beautiful jewels. Nothing that would appeal to you, but certainly it would be wonderful for someone as vain about her appearance as Aphrodite -- or to impress other people who emphasized appearance over substance. Yet she had thrown it away like nothing, replaced it with something <em> better </em> , but still said she missed it <em> . </em> What could be better than something crafted by Hephaestus? Maybe it really had fallen off. Her hair is a labyrinth to deal with, after all, almost snake-like in the way it moved to cover her body. It vaguely reminds you of the Gorgon Heads in Asphodel, weird creepy things that shoot petrifying stones at you whenever you pass through. </p><p>But that still doesn’t make sense.</p><p>Does she want it back? Maybe this entire thing is a ploy to get you to fetch it for her like a dog, just a weird extended power play that she’s laughing about on Olympus with all her family. But she could just ask a water nymph or dumb mortal to retrieve it for her, even with the spring half-frozen over. You barely remember what it looks like. Or if Aphrodite had even mentioned it at all the last time you spoke face to face, just some ornamental thing for show that she could easily dispose of because she’s married to the literal god of the forge! He probably just makes her new ones on the fly. You certainly can’t support that kind of vanity with what few material resources you have. </p><p>You step forward and press on the ice sheet with your foot. It cracks and breaks easily, so thin it could be parchment. All you need to see is a flash of gold, a hint of jewels amidst the darkness -- to grab the jewelry and give it back to her, even though it’s probably worthless to Aphrodite now.</p><p>But she misses it, for some reason. </p><p>And you miss her, for some reason.</p><p>So <em> for some reason </em> you don’t hesitate to step into the water despite the clear biting cold, your breath fogging up in the air, the three-plus inches of snow on the ground. The water itself is freezing when you wade in up to your waist, searching through the crystal clear water for a hint of shininess -- for the large glittering jewels, a flash of gold, anything. Your eyes are used to the dark thanks to your life in the dim Underworld, but surface darkness is a much worse beast -- especially in the water, when you don’t know how deep you can go. Swearing softly, you dunk your head under and immediately regret it as cold water fills your nose and you have to resurface, coughing as you shiver violently. </p><p>But you dunk your head under, again and again, using your feet to shift the rocks and debris below to see if Aphrodite’s hair piece has been buried through time. All you’re doing is kicking up grit and sand that clouds your vision, so you have to stop.</p><p>You curse aloud each time you resurface, sputtering and gasping for breath, the deeper you go into the spring. You can barely swim with your wing half-frozen to your back and the physical effort of swimming in the cold and breaking ice, but by the gods you're in too deep now.</p><p>Again and again you go under, deeper and deeper. </p><p>You find it exactly in the middle of the spring, a glittering thing half-buried under a large rock like a secret treasure a nymph had tucked away for some hero on a quest later on. You shove the rock aside with ease, noting there was no damage to the ornament, and swiftly propel yourself to the surface before you drown in the dark depths.</p><p>When you surface again for the final time, you nearly throw yourself into the shallow waters like a flopping fish, on your hands and knees as you cough up water and wheeze. </p><p>“You’ll freeze to death in there, you know.”</p><p>You turn your head as you unceremoniously spit out water. Aphrodite watches you from the shoreline, arms folded across her chest. Through the dark, you see a flash of gold by her cheek. You squint to get a better look at her face, but you can’t make out any details, can’t concentrate through the freezing chill that’s taken hold of your body and down to your very marrow. Her eyes glow pink in the night, a stark contrast to the darkness and white snow surrounding you both.</p><p>There’s a hollow pit in your chest as you shakily get to your feet and approach her, soaked to the bone and shivering enough to cause an earthquake. </p><p>“Here,” you tell her, holding out the large hair ornament to her. She looks at it blankly, and then at you with something close to — pity? Or sadness. You don’t know what to think of it, except that you don’t want to see it again. “Your... thing.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows but says nothing.</p><p>You wait. But when she doesn’t respond, you shake it at her like you’re trying to lure a cat towards you. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You’re… sorry?”</p><p>“For being an ass to you last time.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Aphrodite tilts her head, catlike, as she reaches up to touch her -- <em> your -- </em>hair piece. She’s wearing the hair piece you left behind so long ago, binding together a lock of her normally free-flowing pink hair. Your heart almost stops. “What makes you say that?”</p><p>You scowl and shake the hair piece at her again, hearing it tinkle like a children’s toy. “I don’t fucking know. What else do you want me to say? Here’s your jewelry. Take it, blood and darkness.”</p><p>“Take it and what, Megaera? Go home to my loving family on Olympus?” She sneers at you, the first time she’s ever displayed anything more than slight passive-aggression. You feel cowed, like a kicked puppy. For some reason, you expected to hear the same melancholy tone of voice in her letter -- and mentally smack yourself for believing that charade for a moment. “To wear around my <em> husband, </em>the one who gifted it to me? I didn’t realize you cared so much about me.”</p><p>You didn’t realize either, but you bite back the sassy remark at the tip of your tongue, which is about half-frozen from your self-inflicted torture in the freezing water anyway. “Maybe I do. So what?”</p><p>“You have a funny way of showing it.” But she snatches the hair piece out of your hand, looks at it for the briefest moment and then back to you with a look akin to anger but not quite — and then, without breaking eye contact, tosses it back into the water again. </p><p>The splash echoes in your ears. Her eyes burn into you, pink and ominous as realization sets in and lights your veins aflame with rage. </p><p>“What the <em> fuck</em>?” you snarl, stepping towards her. She doesn’t flinch at all. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Your old hair piece?”</p><p>“Why yes, I wanted <em> a </em>hair ornament— so I kept yours. I don’t need that little bauble anymore.” She sniffs at you indignantly, giving you a once-over. “What do you think I really want from you, little Fury? Think deeply about this, take your time. I’ll even recite my letter if you can’t remember it, word for word.”</p><p>You feel your blood boiling as you stare back at her, the chill fleeing your body like your heart is about to burst out of your chest in a manic tantrum. How dare she play these games with you. How dare she come here just to <em> mock </em> you. It’s everything you feared she would do to you but so much worse, because the ache in your chest at the cold look in her eyes tells you that something is very wrong right now, that you’ve done something wrong but you don’t — or can’t — know what. </p><p>You try to moderate your breathing, to keep yourself from exploding the way you’ve seen your sisters do. You’re not like them. You can control yourself. But it’s always so gods-damned difficult. “You said you missed that thing.”</p><p>She tilts her head, giving you a cold smile — or more like she bares her teeth at you like a feral dog. “Yes, I did write that down.”</p><p>“And I spent time looking for it -- I’m fucking freezing, by the way, so you’re welcome. And you tossed it away when I tried to give it back because you already had one? <em> My </em>hair piece?”</p><p>She hums in response. “Correct on all accounts. But enlighten my memory, did I actually tell you to come up here and find it or did you choose to do so yourself? I wrote very clearly, and I quote, ‘<em>No matter, I have a better one now.’ </em>”</p><p>She didn’t. </p><p>Your voice is hoarse, a desperate crack in your voice. Are you catching a cold? “... What the fuck is wrong with me?” </p><p>Aphrodite laughs, a hollow sound that rings in your ears over the gurgling of the spring. “What do you mean by <em> that</em>, little Fury?”</p><p>Your eyes are burning for some reason, and you fumble for words, spitting them out like some vile, rotting food you’ve had the misfortune of biting into: “You… the letter… I couldn’t throw it away? And then I fucking ran out of the Underworld like a maniac to go find your jewelry for you and I don’t know <em> why </em>except that I needed to -- “</p><p>Aphrodite’s expression changes for the briefest moment, a flash of… something… in her eyes. Pity, you guess tiredly. Surprise. "There is nothing wrong with you. Except you being an idiot, probably, freezing to death in the water for a bauble all for <em>me</em>."</p><p>So maybe it was actually all you, all your idiocy, all your fears, holding you underwater and drowning you in your denial and confusion. No curses. No strange mind tricks.</p><p>You could love her after all.</p><p>You stand there trembling with cold and anger and frustration, mouth dry, heart pounding in your ears. You can hear yourself breathing -- in, out, in, out -- but you feel like you’re watching yourself through someone else’s eyes. Nothing feels real right now, except for the strange tears prickling at your eyes and threatening to fall. “I -- “</p><p>Aphrodite hesitates for a moment, watching you carefully, before she slinks closer to you, and it takes every ounce of strength you have to stay in place. You want to run. You want to hide. But you can’t anymore. She’s so close to you now, brushing up against you like she did that first time at this very spring so long ago. Your breath stutters when she meets your gaze with a look that makes your heart writhe under her touch, so soft that you hurt just looking at her.</p><p>“You’re more than welcome to refuse me, Megaera. I don't want to hurt you.” She reaches up to cup your face in her hands, lightly brushing her thumbs over your cheeks. You lean into the warmth, partially out of desperation and partially because you're freezing to death and have nowhere else to go. “And then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of time if you want. I promise.”</p><p>You’re still shivering from the cold, water soaking your clothing and weighing you down so much that you feel like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the ground right now. You barely feel your mouth move, face numb from cold, but you can still feel her hands warming you. “No, I -- you love me?”</p><p>“Yes.” No hesitation. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Aphrodite lets out a hollow laugh, tracing your jawline with practiced, gentle fingers. “Wouldn’t I like to know, you insufferable ass.” </p><p>“... do I love you?”</p><p>“That’s for you to decide. Whenever you want to admit it.”</p><p>You do. As much as three meetings’ worth of snark and physical contact can make you love her, anyway. But you don’t want to say it now. “But you’re -- “</p><p>“ -- the goddess of love, blah blah blah.” She pinches your nose playfully and you flinch back, scowling. “It’s not love unless you act and it’s reciprocated, you brat.” </p><p>You sniffle, partially out of indignation and partially out of being half-frozen. “<em>You’re </em>the bratty one. Tossing the fucking jewelry back into the water when I went through so much to get it back for you.” </p><p>“Well then, perhaps we’d better get you out of the cold, hm? Back to my chambers, same as usual.” Aphrodite smiles at you brightly. “You’d be a block of ice right now if I hadn’t gotten the boatman’s message from Lord Hermes -- ”</p><p>
  <em> "Charon?" </em>
</p><p>She looks mildly amused. "Yes, that is him, isn’t it? I’m glad your memory still works.”</p><p>“What -- “</p><p>“What were his exact words? Ah, yes.” Aphrodite taps her chin, and for a moment you’re afraid she’s going to exactly mimic Charon’s speaking style. “‘<em>Megaera is on her way to fuck your brains out.</em>’ Very to the point, unlike <em> someone</em>.”</p><p>You don’t fuck each other’s brains out when you get to Olympus. </p><p>But when you curl up against each other that night, under three blankets, you dream of a little cottage by a river.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nyx: hey don't be stupid<br/>Meg: [goes crazy, goes stupid]<br/>Aphro: wow i cant not fuck her</p><p>- congrats on all the goty/game awards for supergiant weeeeeee<br/>- meg's thought process here might be a bit confusing bc i wrote and finished/edited this at night by 7am lmao. lesbian brain goes woohoo once more.<br/>- thank you all for reading as usual, and sorry 4 the wait. this one was a doozy. still a bit of an upward journey for our gals here tho wOoooOOooO<br/>- I also posted this and then edited a few lines here and there so don’t be surprised if some stuff is different on a reread LOL. Realized some things were Not Good.<br/>- and as always: supergiant show us the forbidden wlw. amen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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